


Again?

by GayStuckyShipper



Series: A Budding Flower - Stucky Beginnings [1]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, M/M, My First Fanfic, Not Beta Read, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Rating due to one swear word, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-21 20:14:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9564563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GayStuckyShipper/pseuds/GayStuckyShipper
Summary: Steve wakes up sick, and Bucky does what every good friend would do. Look after him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, this is my first fic on here, nothing big, just a way to get my footing with these characters. Enjoy!

“Hey, sleepyhead. Wake up, or ya gonna be late for ya shift at the store.” James Barnes, Bucky to his friend (and the dames he went out with), shouted through the door at aforementioned friend, Steve. 

It was half eight, and Steve needed to be at the grocery store by nine o’clock. It was a fifteen minute journey, so if Steve didn’t get up soon, he’d likely be late and get fired, and then they’d be unable to afford the rent next month. Then, they’d be thrown out, and Steve would probably get sick living on the streets (he’d never accept an offer from Bucky’s Ma to put them up for as long as they needed).

An unintelligible mumbling could just about be heard from the other side of the door. More mumbling. Then, a little louder, “Buck.”

Bucky rushed to the door. “Alright, I’m coming in, you better be decent!” He said, more than a little worried. Normally, Steve was quite the early bird, and if he was having trouble getting up, there was only one explanation. He opened the door, and the sight before him made his heart drop.

There was Steve, lying in bed, blanket wrapped around him, and only his head poking out. His soft blond hair was mussed up from sleep, his eyes were squinty and red, and his nose was pink and raw.

“I thing I’b sick.” He mumbled, sniffing for emphasis. Bucky’s brain went into meltdown. Idiot, idiot, idiot! He shouldn’t have given in when Steve asked for one more drink. But then again, he never had quite been able to say no to a pouting, pleading Steve (not that  _ anyone  _ needed to know that, least of all Steve). So now here they were, Steve ill for what must be the fifth time that month.

And Bucky, of course, would have to take care of him. He sighed in resignation.

“Again? Steve, you only just got over that fever last week.” He stalked over to the bed, and felt Steve’s forehead. Burning hot.

“Alright, I’ll phone the store, the docks and the doctor’s. In that order. Try not to die in the meantime.” He said it as a joke, but with Steve’s poor health and even worse luck, that might be a possibility. He backed out of the room, a half-fake smile gracing his face.

He walked out the door of their small apartment and ran a hand over his face, contemplating his life. How had he got himself here, either scraping his friend off the sidewalk, or nursing him back to some semblance of health? Oh yeah, childhood friendship, plus a supposed perversion (fuck what the pastor said). Whose business was it but his that he chased skirt to keep up pretenses, and he really preferred his fellow man. Specifically his best friend. He’d come to terms with this many years ago. He’d be a bachelor for life, while Steve would find some dame to make the happiest wife ever (if he reached that age, a dark voice said in the back of his mind). He reached the telephone outside their apartment block, and dialed the number for the store.

“Good mornin’ Mr Artino, Steve can’t come into work today. Yeah, he’s ill again. No, we don’t need any help, I’ve got it covered, so tell Mrs Artino not to worry herself. Okay, yeah, and yourself.” He hung up, then dialed the next number.

“Mr Barnes, sir. I’m sorry, sir, but I’m unable to come to work today. Family emergency, sir. Of course I’ll be there tomorrow, sir. Thanks for being so understanding, sir.” Two down, one to go.

“Hello Miss Baxter, Bucky here. Yeah, Steve’s sick again. No, just a fever this time. I know, but you know what he’s like. Yeah, can you have it delivered, I think it’s gonna be a whole day affair. Okay, thanks. Bye.” He put the phone down and sighed. Steve was going to be the death of the both of them.

He headed back inside, mentally preparing to make some broth for Steve, but was shocked and angry to see Steve up and about.

“You should be in bed! I’ve just taken the day off to care for your ass, punk. So get back in bed and let me do my job.” He ran over and shooed Steve away from the stove. Steve looked up at him, eyes conveying the perpetual fire despite their puffiness. Damn it. Another look he could never say no to. Damn Steve and his adorable face, all sharp cheekbones, floppy hair and sparkling eyes. Damn Bucky for falling in love with him. Damn it all to hell! He sighed again.

“I can look after myself, Buck. You ain’t my mother.” Steve spat. Bucky relented, stepping back from the stove.

Steve tried to light the gas, thin hands protruding from the thin blanket he had draped over him. He got a match lit, then sneezed and dropped it.

“Miss Baxter’s on her way with your medicine, by the way.” Bucky smiled to himself, loving the way Steve determinedly sniffed, taking out another match. He sneezed again, and Bucky stepped up behind him, taking the matchbox from him. 

He lit a match and fired up the stove. The satisfying whoosh brought with it some much needed heat.

“Right, thanks.” Steve said, voice catching in his throat, probably from the cough he no doubt had. Sure enough, he coughed moments later, and Bucky ran to get his nebuliser. He rushed back into the kitchen to where Steve was doubled over and spluttering. Bucky helped him to use the nebuliser, and Steve straightened up.

“Thangs Buck.” He smiled lopsidedly and sniffed.

“No problem. Nice to get some appreciation for once, punk.” Buck reached over and ruffled his friend’s hair, much to the annoyance of the blond.

“Get off me! You jerk!” Steve sneezed again.

“Right, let me get on with the soup. Sit down and be patient.” For once, Steve complied with no complaint, and Bucky got to work on the soup.

About fifteen minutes later, and Bucky had finished the broth, and was spooning some into a bowl, when he turned around. Once again, he sighed. Steve was asleep.

“Right, come on you. Get up.” bucky moved around their tiny table to where Steve was slumped in a chair (that would play havoc with his spine).He put one arm over his shoulders, and his own arm around Steve’s waist. He maneuvered them through to Steve’s room, and laid him down, covering him with a blanket. Steve half-awoke.

“I love you.” He mumbled, and Bucky froze. Did he mean it? Was he hallucinating his mother? What was it? Steve fell back asleep, and Bucky took  a leap, diving headfirst into whatever may come next.

“I love you too.” He whispered to the silent room.

**Author's Note:**

> Like I said, this is my first fanfiction, so any and all comments and constructive criticism will be greatly appreciated!


End file.
